A Time For Dancing
by micatite
Summary: Brought back unexpectedly, he watches her life going on without him. Makoto X Nephrite Romance


**A Time For Dancing**

He'd always known he'd find her again.

He'd just never expected it to be so soon after his unexpected…reawakening. Perhaps it was fate's jest since he'd missed her entirely the last time.

The tall, mahogany haired, sapphire eyed man watched as a blonde beam of hyperactive sunshine bounced up the avenue, dragging a considerably taller, leggy, emerald-eyed woman behind her. The second woman's brunette hair was shot with red in the light and it drew him like a beacon. The blonde, her lemon-blond hair shining in the early afternoon sun, was merrily drooling over every cute outfit, handbag and pair of shoes in the shop windows. She moved like a golden whirlwind, everywhere at once.

"Minako-chan," the vixen-haired woman protested wearily, looking harassed as she sank down on a planter outside a shop, "My feet hurt. I can't shop anymore. You wear me out!"

"Makoto," the petite blonde replied with a sunny smile and a stern admonition, "shut up." She poked her stick-in-the-mud friend then wagged the finger at her. "We've been working too hard and now it's our day off and it's your birthday. It's also beautiful out for once. So just enjoy, and that's an order. Ooooh…look at that outfit! So cute! We can't let someone else get it."

And they were off again as the blonde dragged her friend into yet another department store.

He'd had to follow her, now that he knew her name.

Makoto.

By the end of the day he understood why she'd been tired so early. The blonde was like a wind-up toy that never wound down, not even when she was loaded down with enough shopping bags to sink a barge. His auburn haired beauty had a mere two, though one of them contained the ensemble from the store window, a birthday present from her friend. He'd caught sight of her in a mirror when she'd tried it on, modeling it for her friend. He approved.

Finally though, Makoto had planted her feet and declared that she was done, that she had plans, and that she would see Minako later. "Ja ne, Minako-chan," she replied, over the blonde's cry of protest. "Arigato. Tell Artemis and Luna I said hi!"

Giving a jaunty wave, she pivoted smartly on her heel and set off through the milling streets. He followed, drawn by the bouncy bob of her chestnut ponytail, the subtle sway of her hips and the way her blue jeans gripped them. His were not the only male eyes that followed her progress, he noted, shooting several men killing glares.

He was only going to watch over her, he reminded himself several times over the course of the long evening. He was only to protect her. Not interfere in her life. He didn't have the right to. Not anymore.

Makoto, in a hurry after her longer-than-expected shopping trip, bustled around her kitchen, chopping, stirring, tasting. Perfect. She smiled warmly as the doorbell rang, signaling her guest. He was right on time. She hadn't had a moment extra to spare, but she'd just managed to get the dinner ready. Whipping off her apron, she stuffed it into a drawer and headed for the door.

"Shinozaki-kun!"

"Happy birthday, Mako-chan!"

Her watcher's hand fisted tightly as she flung open the door and flung her arms around the young man with the warm brown eyes and tousled brown hair, dragging him into the apartment for an affectionate hug.

His other hand fisted even more tightly when Shinozaki presented his emerald-eyed witch with a tiny, perfect bonsai rose bush and garnered a smile that lit Makoto's face up like a star. Her plant-bedecked home was testament to prior gifts and her passion for green things.

He'd also brought wine, a pink ribbon tied around the neck of the bottle.

Shinozaki and Makoto dined on her cooking, which he praised lavishly, laughing at her when she flushed with mingled pleasure and embarrassment. They then sat entirely too close, laughing and chatting over his wine and her music. She leaned comfortably on his shoulder. His hand on her arm bespoke longtime intimacy. It wasn't for nothing that his picture sat on her mantle.

Her watcher growled low in his throat, then cursed his own weakness. 'You're just watching,' he reminded himself firmly. He was relieved, though when the telephone jangled shrilly, startling the occupants of the small apartment.

Makoto popped up and answered. "Moshi-moshi?"

A stream of rapid-fire Japanese hit her eardrum, making her wince slightly.

"Oh Usagi-chan…huh? Tomorrow night? The club? Hai…I can come. Sure! What? Double happiness? Okay. See you then." She replaced the handset and turned back to her guest, twirling a loose auburn curl thoughtfully around one finger. "I wonder what's so important she wanted me to bake a cake for."

"Gomen, Mako-chan," Shinozaki said, rising to his feet and delighting the watcher. "I've really got to go. I didn't realize it was so late." He tapped the crystal of his watch. "It was fabulous, though. And the food, as always, was superb. Arigato and happy birthday."

She smiled. "Take the leftovers with you, Shin-kun. You'll eat well tomorrow." She pressed a bundle into his hand, pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and received one in return before her guest let himself out.

Humming slightly, along with the stereo, she then yawned. The double impact of Hurricane Minako and the wine were making her quite sleepy. Giving a shrug, she decided to ignore, for once, the dishes until the morning and headed for her bed. But first she'd put the fan in the window, she thought. It had been ridiculously, unseasonably warm that day, and she slept better with it in place, its gentle hum lulling her. She took the petite rose bush with her, placing it on the night stand where she could enjoy its sweet scent.

She disappeared into her bathroom, then re-emerged a few minutes later, padding softly on bare feet to her futon, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn as she sank down onto it. "What a day." She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, not even bothering to pull the quilt over herself.

Her watcher's eyes burned as they surveyed her lithe form through the open window.

Too tired to bother braiding back her hair that night, her cinnamon red-brown locks tumbled riotously across the pillow like a waterfall of silk. Her willowy frame was barely hidden by the oversized shirt, the man's shirt, she wore to sleep in. The unadorned male shirt should have made her less enticing, but somehow it seemed to do just the opposite, emphasizing the long, sexy, feminine length of her legs and the gentle curve of her hip. She'd mis-buttoned the top in her drowsy state, and he could just see the soft upper curve of one creamy breast. She was smiling as she slept.

He shot a glare at the tiny bonsai rose. It should have withered on the spot, but it didn't. Its white petals gleamed luminous in the moonlight, taunting him. Without thinking, he gave it a vexed psychokinetic shove. The delicate china pot slid to the floor, landing with a soft smash, the delicate plant crushed. He froze, damning himself, as Makoto shifted in her sleep, then relaxed slightly as it became clear that she'd not been roused by the small crash.

He really would have left her then, he swore to himself later. Really. If only she hadn't moved again.

Deeply asleep, she rolled over, her arm snagging the king-sized pillow from the other side of the bed. Curling her arm around it, she rolled into it like she was embracing a lover. She made a breathy, incomprehensible murmur in her sleep, pulling her knee up, unconsciously, innocently provocative.

Good intentions flew out the proverbial window. He was only human…sort of. She was his, dammit, and he would claim her! And sooner rather than later.

The day dawned hot again. Morning light streaming through the window brought her slowly to wakefulness, and Makoto stretched. She would have to hurry, if she was to get Usagi's cake made before she had to go to work. Sliding out of bed, she caught sight of the fragments of the broken cache pot. She let out a mou of disappointment, picking up shards. "Bother…I must not have put it up properly last night. It's too bad. It was so pretty too."

She tossed her head then, as the thought struck her. "Oh…I know where he got it. I'll go next weekend and buy another one."

With that happy thought in mind, she bounced out of bed and hurriedly dressed so that she could clear up the previous night's dishes and get her cake in the oven. Cinnamon, spice and sweet vanilla scents filled the air, the aroma only increasing as she eased the hot pans from the oven and popped the layers on wire cooling racks. Whipping up a quick cream-cheese icing, she stored it in the refrigerator so that she could finish the cake after work and bring it with her.

The chiming of a clock brought her head up and Makoto let out a shriek of aggravation. She bolted from the apartment, her mad dash making her watcher smile. Evidently, when pressed for time, she could more than give the blonde a run for her money in the whirlwind department. "Ack! I am sooo late!"

Evening brought with it a sultry hint of water on the wind. Lightning flashed very distantly and a soft rumble of lightning was barely audible. The air was heavy and still. Weather announcers, though, insisted that the storm would not hit Tokyo.

"Konbanwa, minna!" Makoto elbowed her way through the crowded, raucous club, determinedly ignoring a few hands that patted where they did not belong. Since she was intent on her meeting, she let the gropers live. They had no idea of how narrow their escape was.

She finally reached her cluster of friends who were crowded into a large booth at the back. "Here's your cake, Usagi-chan, as requested," she said as she passed the cake box to a silver-blonde haired, blue eyed friend who had the most singular hairstyle the watcher had ever seen.

"What's up?" she continued. "You were being all mysterious and cryptic last night on the phone. It's not like you."

The silver blonde, Usagi, bounced up from the lap of a dark-haired man, grabbing the cake box greedily. "Arigato, Mako-chan. I can't wait to taste it. Your carrot cake's so good. It's the only way I can stand carrots." She scrunched her nose up and grinned, reminding everyone of the twitching nose of a rabbit. Her unique hairstyle only added to the impression and Makoto's watcher laughed in spite of himself.

That laugh seemed to draw the attention of one of the other occupants of the table, a lovely but serious-looking woman in her twenties, older than the others, but who seemed somehow ageless. She had her dark hair done up in a top knot that gleamed green in the flashing lights of the club. She swiveled around, searching the dim, smoky interior of the club, but then shrugged, taking a sip of her wine and smiling mysteriously as she turned back to the others at the table.

"She hasn't told anyone yet," Setsuna said, raising her voice to be heard over the din.

"Yeah," piped up another occupant of the booth, a sandy-haired male who was squashed in close on the end of the booth against an elegant looking young woman, his arm around her shoulders. "We just were told to come and so here we are. But order something first, Mako. You look like it was a hectic day. Relax. Unwind."

"Hai," Makoto murmured, smoothing back her tousled hair. "I was late, so I had to stay after and got caught prepping for a large party when one of the station chefs cut his hand." She laughed. "I barely had time to get home and change before coming, but I figured it wasn't right to show up in a stained apron here. So I had to race home to finish Usagi's cake and change clothes."

"It was worth it," the sandy-haired male said, with a gleam of appreciation in his eye as he took in her slim-fitting halter-top and short, flirty, flaring skirt, the ensemble that Minako had gifted her with.

"Haruka-san," Makoto protested, giving a wave of her hand, "You never change. You're such a flirt; I don't know why Michiru puts up with you."

"I have other sterling qualities," Haruka replied with an impish wink.

The watcher was surprised to see the sandy blonde then cross his legs in what was an unmistakably feminine gesture. It hit him at once. Haruka-san was no male, in spite of her very masculine attire. He smiled as Haruka's companion, gave the voluble woman a pinch on the arm. "She's right, you know. You're terrible." Her voice gave new meaning to the word smooth.

"I know," Haruka's eyes twinkled, irrepressible. "But I can't help myself sometimes."

"We know," answered Makoto, Minako, and a raven-haired girl, who shifted over in her seat making room for Makoto to sit down. She patted the spot beside her.

"You're not the latest," Minako piped up, angling her golden head so she could see around the bodies in between her and Makoto. "Ami's not here yet. And Rei-chan," she patted the girl's ebony head garnering a cry of protest from the pat-ee, "and I just got here ourselves. My photo shoot ran long today. I had to pick Rei up, so we were both late."

She waved an arm and like magic a waiter appeared, drawn to the golden girl's radiant smile. Taking orders from everyone but Makoto, who was still mulling over her choices, he returned shortly after, his tray heavily laden. Passing the drinks around, he stepped back and bumped into a woman in an ice-blue dress and white lab coat who'd just arrived.

"Gomen," she squeaked, stepping back to let him pass. He took her order of a sparkling mineral water and Makoto's of a Kaluha and cream as he went. He was back in what seemed like no time at all.

"You're late Ami-chan," Usagi scolded as the new arrival dropped into an empty chair in front of the table. "You used to be so prompt back in school."

Ami simply held up her hands in surrender. "Babies don't come on timetable schedules, Usagi-chan. So what was the big news you said you wanted to tell us? We're all here now, except Hotaru-chan and she's too young."

"Well," the petite blonde snuggled back onto the lap of her husband, who was grinning from ear to ear. She gave a sly smile. "Since you mentioned babies, Mamo-chan and I…"

The music from the club swirled around, muffling the noise from the corner table as a throbbing base number came up. Straining, he could only hear a few words. "…test…and…two months…" One last word came to his ear, and it seemed to have the impact of a bomb on the assembled group. "pregnant."

"CHIBI-USA-CHAN'S COMING!"

There was a massed squeal from four of the women, his included. They squiggled out of the booth to hug their friend fiercely, ecstatic for her. "You're so lucky. Congratulations Usagi-chan, Mamoru-kun!" Everyone at the table was smiling broadly at the couple.

"I think news like this calls for a drink," Haruka said, raising her glass. "Kanpai!"

"Kanpai!" chorused everyone, quaffing their drinks. They immediately placed orders for more and Ami didn't get water that time. It was a celebration, after all.

The party livened up rapidly after that. Everyone had to know how everyone was doing, hear all the latest gossip, and generally get boisterous. Breaking out the cake, Makoto smiled. "No wonder you wanted me to put the double happiness character on that."

"Hai," Usagi inhaled her cake, smiling blissfully over its spicy sweetness. "Of course this tastes so good it makes it triple. Best ever!"

"You always say that," chorused Rei and Minako together.

They were, those in her inner circle, as close as family, the bonds visible for all to see. They would love each other work together, fight together, play together and protect each other against all comers, he mused as he nursed his own brandy, feeling a bit despondent at not being a part of it. It was security in an insecure world.

The exclusive nature of the group couldn't hold off outsiders forever, though, given how strikingly attractive the assembled women were. Men were drawn to them unerringly and they wanted to dance.

Haruka and Michiru danced together. Usagi and her husband spun on the floor like they'd done it a thousand times before. Minako, Ami, Makoto, and even the fiery, intense Rei were all asked to dance by brave souls. Thoroughly mellowed by sugar and liquor, their world temporarily at peace, everyone accepted. It was a good time to dance.

He watched Makoto twist, her skirt flaring out as she gyrated to the beat. She had a fluid, natural grace about her movements that sent a heat flaring in his belly that had nothing to do with his brandy. The song had no sooner finished when another partner claimed her and she disappeared into the thronging crowd, lost in the music, moving like liquid lightning.

Makoto was the last of them to leave. She'd been having entirely too good a time, flying high on the drinks and the music and the giddy joy for her friend's delicate condition. But all good times had to come to an end, and she finally, hazily realized that she had to go. She had work the next day, after all. Or did she? She couldn't quite remember.

A bit unsteadily, she drifted out the door. "Perhaps that last chocolate liqueur was a bit…one too much," she giggled softly. Her brain was nicely fuzzed and warm, and everything seemed highly amusing to her. "Sure was good, though…oh!"

The pavement outside the club was faintly uneven and it tripped her. Stumbling, she toppled right into a stranger's arms, clutching at his shirt as her head spun. "Gomen," she whispered, glancing up through her lashes toward the face that went with the strong body which held her. Her breath caught.

He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, tall with striking cobalt eyes fringed with impossibly long, dark lashes. His mahogany dark hair rippled down over his suit jacket to well past his shoulders. His face was that of a fallen angel, impossibly tempting. Her alcohol-hazed brain could only seem to come up with one phrase and it slipped unbidden from her lips.

"You're beautiful," she breathed almost inaudibly.

He laughed at that, drawing her closer and lowering his lips to hers, seeking her heat. She melted into the stranger's kiss, feeling like she was coming home. She looped her arms around his neck, her darkening emerald eyes drifting shut as she tried to meld her body to his, wondering vaguely why it seemed so right.

His voice, husky and seductive, was against her ear. "You're the beautiful one, sweetheart. I've been waiting for you, Makoto." His lips claimed hers again and scattered her senses. It never occurred to her to wonder how it was he knew her name.

The scent of roses and cinnamon, the scent of her, consumed him and he deepened the kiss. She tasted of Kaluha, rich chocolate, sweet whipped cream and sweeter passion. And, he realized as he curved his hands around her enticing backside to hold her closer against him, she was bombed out of her charming little skull.

Her velvet soft lips scudded down his neck to the spot where his pulse beat furiously. She gave a soft sigh, snuggling into him like she wanted to climb into his skin, making him bite down on the inside of his cheek furiously for a few seconds as he fought for control.

It wasn't fair. Without a single word she could turn him flat inside out; she always had been able to. He wanted her more than ever. But he couldn't take advantage of her like this. It wouldn't be right.

Scruples, he thought, not for the first time in his multiple lives, were a pain in the ass.

It became a moot point as she started to slump and he realized that she had fallen peacefully asleep in his arms, pillowing her head on his broad shoulder. Chuckling softly, he scooped her up, sliding her into the passenger's seat of the cherry-red sports car.

He'd waited for her a long time, lifetimes even. He could wait a little while longer.

A swirl of wind kicked up leaves and a fine mist of cooling rain finally began to fall as he drove her into the sultry night. It wouldn't be all bad, Nephrite reflected, his gaze heating as he looked at his soul mate who was curled up like a kitten against the car door.

When Makoto woke in the morning, the only man's shirt she'd be wearing was…his.


End file.
